


A Surprising Turn of Friendship

by seashadows



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 1000 Gigolas Fics, Autofellatio, Bets & Wagers, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gimli brings Legolas with him to visit his home after the War of the Ring, and while heads may turn and tongues may wag at Legolas's presence, a change in their interactions brings them close together indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Surprising Turn of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2000GigolasFics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2000GigolasFics) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Either Legolas or Gimli catches the other one masturbating. He doesn't leave, but stays to watch-- and joins in. The whole business becomes an epic competition where they try to see who can be the sexiest/most seductive, with the loser being the one who comes first. 
> 
> Bonus points for every different way they drive each other insane with lust. 
> 
> Double triple quadruple extra bonus points with chocolate sprinkles if Legolas tries to trump Gimli by doing autofellatio. 
> 
> I will bake you brownies if Gimli then abandons the "not touching" part of the competition and finger-f*cks Legolas while he does the autofellatio.
> 
> I will also knit you a fetching hat to go with your brownies if Gimli f*cks Legolas for real after he comes in his own mouth.
> 
> COME ON SRSLY PEOPLE I MEAN IT I WILL KNIT YOU A HAT DON'T YOU WANT A NICE HAT

Gimli considered the insistence that he quarter Legolas in his own chambers to be a minor inconvenience, if it were in exchange for the absolute glee of seeing his father nearly blow steam to rival a teakettle when he’d introduced Legolas Thranduillion as his companion two days previous. “There have been Elves welcome in Erebor before, Father,” he had said in formal Westron, wearing his best and blankest face while Glóin turned the red-purple of some very fine wines. “Prince Legolas’s father was once the honored guest of King Thrór, your own third cousin two generations removed.” 

When Glóin finally answered half an eternity later, his polite words came out as if strangled by his throat. “Of course,” he said. “Welcome…” And then he bit out the words “Prince Legolas.” 

‘Amad, by her own later report, nearly undid the braids of her beard laughing when his father refused ale with supper in favor of hitting his own head against the dining-table until his forehead went pink. 

Not, of course, that the trade-off pained him so terribly. Legolas’s skills at presenting himself as a proper houseguest rivaled only his skill with the bow. “Your bathing rooms are a marvel!” he exclaimed when Gimli first showed him the plumbing. “And within walls!” 

“You’ll never be so eager to void,” Gimli retorted – smartly, he thought – and smiled in satisfaction when Legolas laughed. One couldn’t always resist leaving behind one’s training in diplomacy, after all. 

The steam of that same bathing-room now covered its mirror, another marvel of Dwarven skill. Gimli wiped a circle clean on its surface with his palm and smoothed his hair, damp from his bath. “Braids,” he told his reflection, “now those will tell me I’m home.” 

First came the two braids of the line of Durin, one to signify the name, one to signify the branch, twisted together in the bulk of his beard. He had always been one for directness, even in diplomacy, try as Master Balin might have to teach him subterfuge. “Balin –“ The thought and the word brought him up short with his fingers still in his beard, staring at himself in the mirror. Balin Fundinul, his kinsman and dearest cousin. Dwalin had rent his beard when Gimli brought him the news with his head bowed and his hands clasped. 

Just the beard, then. He could make his hair presentable another day. 

“I left the water for you, Master Elf,” he said, “if sitting where a clean Dwarf just sat to soak won’t make you –“ 

That was when he saw it. 

Elf-cock, he noted dispassionately somewhere in the back of his mind, slid in and out of an Elf’s hand just like a Dwarf’s cock, and was just as long and thin as he might have imagined. Not, of course, that he had ever imagined an Elf’s cock or any such nonsense. Nor had he imagined the sight of it sliding in and out of an Elven fist, with the wet pink head visible above its retracted hood. “Elf,” he said before he could stop himself, “what’ve you got going on in my bed?” 

Legolas’s fist stopped where it was, and Legolas stared at him with the eyes of a frightened deer – the spindly kind with its stripes of white and dappling of darker brown that dwelt in Mirkwood. “Gimli,” he said. “Gimli, I thought you…you would bathe for some time yet…” 

“Couldn’t finish the braids of my hair,” Gimli explained, and went to his treasure-box with his beard clutched in a careful fist. They had both seen each other in their skins. What better way to stay the awkwardness here, but to remind Legolas of old times in the river with his own nudity? “Only my beard. Should I have warned ye?” He picked up the wide golden bead that ‘Adad had made for him, set with deep reddish-brown garnets to match his hair, and slid the braids through. 

“Oh, no, not at all,” Legolas said. Gimli turned in time to see him draw up the covers; a damn shame, that, as it covered up his stand. Gimli’s hips rolled without his permission as he felt himself begin to engorge. He had certainly not imagined such a scenario as this in his life, and especially not after ‘Adad told him the paltry insults that Legolas thought were clever while detaining Thorin’s Company. No, never. “Should I…go?” 

Oho, was that a challenge in his eyes? Gimli would wager coin on it. “No,” he said. “Keep on, Master Elf. Should we make a competition of it?” 

Legolas’s hand suddenly started towards his cock in a single jerk. “What sort of competition?” he asked, voice strained as his hand hovered above his lap. “A snoring contest? As when we traveled?” 

“No, today I think I’d like to share your bedroll for another reason,” Gimli answered. He smoothed his beard and sauntered to his bed, sitting down on the edge farthest from Legolas. Should his friend be uncomfortable, he didn’t want to be in a position to frighten him. “Should we have a contest of wanking?” 

Legolas let out a nervous-sounding burst of laughter. “Is that what you call it?” 

Gimli snorted. “When we’re being crude, aye, that’s what we Dwarves call it,” he said. “I could ask if you truly called me a goblin-mutant in your woods, but we’d both know it’s true before you answered. Why make me explain this?” 

“I won’t, then,” said Legolas. His eyebrows knit, then rose in a definite challenge. “What are our stakes?” 

Gimli sat on the bed proper and scooted closer to Legolas before he answered. “It’s a contest of holding out,” he said. He suspected that making Legolas squirm in need would be a pleasure of an entirely different kind than simply watching him. “I’ll light a lamp, and we’ll… _touch ourselves_ , if that term suits ye better.” He smiled. “The winner is the last to come.” 

“Come?” 

“Peak.” 

“Oh,” Legolas said, nodding. “I – that’s a word I know better. I think…” He gulped, and his cheeks flushed. The noble quarters ran close enough to the periphery of the mountain to allow a window, but Gimli thought that its relatively poor light did Legolas’s beauty no justice. Yes, he could allow himself to admit that there was beauty in those long limbs. “I would like to have this contest.” He wiggled both eyebrows. “I’ll wager you lose.” 

He thought that, did he? “My stamina will outmatch yours,” he said, perhaps a touch more threateningly than he intended. “We could make it a bit more interesting, if you prefer.” When Legolas tilted his head, he continued, “We can each do anything we like to arouse the other.” He spread his legs and, as his hand ran the length of his cock, let his eyes close and a moan escape his mouth. “Like that.” 

Legolas whimpered, and the sound – seemingly magnified with Gimli’s eyes closed – made his cock jump. “Yes,” he said. “But…” The bedclothes suddenly rustled, and he felt Legolas’s weight shift next to him. “If that’s how it is, then I think you should open your eyes.” 

Gimli obeyed, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Legolas had vaulted his legs over his own head, and with his spine bent seemingly as easily as a blade of grass, he had his mouth open and his cock mere inches away. “Lad,” he croaked. “Ach, Legolas. Doesn’t that hurt?” 

Legolas shook his head, and all the while, his cock came closer to his lips. “A bit of strain,” he said. “I can, _ah_ -“ He pushed his hips the last inch or two towards his face, and suddenly, there was the head of his cock in his mouth. 

“By Mahal,” Gimli said, and stroked himself in earnest. For all that his peers had spoken wistfully of that selfsame thing when they were growing up, seeing it done was truly beyond description. He gulped to wet his throat and said, “Don’t think that means you’ve won. I’ve a trick or two up my sleeve, Legolas son of Thranduil.” 

“Mm.” Legolas bobbed his head forward – or up, as it were – and took more of his own cock in his mouth, then let it go to hang between his legs. Spit gleamed on the head, and blast it all, he’d forgotten to light the lamp. Legolas chuckled as he scrambled for lamp and match. “Have I won?” 

“I’ve not come,” Gimli said, and struck the match, then touched it to the wick. “And I did say we can do anything.” He sprawled beside Legolas and spread his legs before taking his cock in his hand. “Now, if you will, think about _my_ cock.” His cheeks heated as he said the word aloud. “Imagine yourself touchin’ it. Could put it in ye.” 

Around his cock, Legolas moaned. His eyes squeezed shut and he let himself slip from his mouth again. “That’s not fair.” 

Gimli smiled and pressed two fingers against his stones, gently massaging them. That felt so good, touching himself as Legolas watched and – he didn’t even know how to describe what Legolas was doing in a way that honored his beauty and strength. “Suckin’ yourself off’s not so good as my doin’ that for ye,” he said; the last word, he ground out against his teeth with a crook of his fingertips against the junction between cock and stones. “Have y’ever, _ah -!_ ” He pinched thumb and forefinger around the base and squeezed. “Ach, that’ll stop a peak every time. I could go all night wi’ that.” 

“Would you,” said Legolas breathily, “if I did this?” With a sort of hop, he brought his arse closer and spread the cheeks apart with his hands, giving a grunt as he did so. Gimli nearly choked at once; never had such a bold Elf appeared in any story he’d heard. “Oh, touch yourself with your fingers wet, _mellon_. You couldn’t hold off as I’m doing.” 

With a shaking hand, Gimli touched his mouth and sucked two fingers in. “I’m obeying,” he said after he’d gotten them good and wet, “because I want to.” Two could play at this unfair game. “Mmm, a-and, _ah_ , what if y’had a good set of Dwarven stones to look at?” He bent one knee upwards so Legolas could see his arse and the curve of his stones if he had a mind to. “Hairy as a boar, we are. Not hairless like you Elves.” 

Legolas’s gasp made him pinch the base of his cock again, but once the urge passed, Gimli stroked himself with his spit-wet fingers and saw Legolas go back to vigorously sucking himself. The two of them worked in silence for likely only a minute or two, yet it seemed like forever that Gimli had to hold off. 

Then the idea came to him: he had not specified no touching, but Legolas would likely be surprised anyway, and that might just bring him off first. “Legolas,” he said in a tone so husky it surprised him, “could I touch ye?” 

Legolas squeaked, and coughed hard immediately after. “That’s…” 

“Not against the rules,” Gimli cut in. “If you don’t want it, I won’t.” 

“Yes,” said Legolas. “Yes.” 

Gimli brought his fingers back to his mouth and wet them thoroughly with swipes of his tongue, then rolled onto his stomach, all the better to reach Legolas’s arse – it was so close to his face, he realized with a small laugh, that the both of them could kiss it now and the phrase wouldn’t be an insult. “Lad, that’s lovely,” he said, and stroked his index fingertip against Legolas’s hole. His cock twitched at the sight of the hole spasming shut and the sound of Legolas’s gasp, and he rubbed it hard against the mattress. 

“Put it _in_ ,” Legolas said with a whimper. “Now, Gimli. Please.” 

This wager might be lost faster than he’d expected, but which of them would break first, Gimli did not know. Legolas’s desperate voice had him close to the point of his peak faster than he had been in years. He wet his fingers again with plenty of spit, the thought of cleanliness shoved aside, and slid a fingertip inside Legolas to the first knuckle. Legolas bucked and cried out, and Gimli stroked his arse. “So hot inside,” he said – moaned. Smooth, soft skin against one hand and bright heat nearly searing the other; an Elf had him undone, yes, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Do you – do you want oil?” He bit back a curse in Khuzdul when Legolas’s entire arse clenched up, and “ _M’imnu Mahal!_ ” was what he said with his lips against Legolas’s thigh. 

“No, no, another.” Gimli wiggled his finger, a question. “Yes!” Legolas cried. “W-wet it, put it…in me.” 

Gimli took extra care, as much as he could, to wet his second and his third fingers thoroughly before he put them inside. He wiggled the tips and bit the insides of his cheeks hard to hear Legolas’s sound. “How’s this?” He slid the fingers in another knuckle’s depth and curled them forward and back, moving with the rhythm of Legolas’s body. 

“Gimli, _Gimli!_ ” His name came out in a scream that was soon muffled by the unmistakable sound of seed filling an eager mouth. Legolas’s body shook, nearly quaked, and Gimli could only take his fingers away and come closer to watch the ecstasy on Legolas’s face in wonder. 

When the shivers abated, Legolas unfurled himself from what had to be an uncomfortable position by now, and lay prone on the bed with his hands on his chest. “Gimli,” he whispered, then licked his lips. “Oh.” 

Gimli could resist no longer. In one move, he took the - _his!_ \- Elf’s head between his hands and kissed him, kissed the bitterness of that foreign-tasting seed from his tongue and the smoothness from his cheeks if his beard had anything to say about it. Legolas flipped himself so that they lay side by side and kissed back eagerly, making Gimli’s cock twitch. He had won, miraculously, but that didn’t matter nearly as much as this kiss. 

“You teased me about your Dwarven cock,” Legolas said when he came up for air. “Put it in me.” 

Gimli drew back with his hands still on Legolas’s face. “What?” 

“Fuck me.” Legolas boosted himself up on his hands. “You asked about oil, so I know you have it.” Gimli would swear by Mahal’s name that he saw Legolas’s cock twitch again, peak or no. “Please, Gimli.” 

Gimli kissed him again, a shorter one this time. “It still only counts as one,” he said softly, “if you come,” and Legolas grinned. 

There was oil in the shelves beside his bed, just as he’d left them before he left for Rivendell all those long months ago, and a shake of the bottle satisfied him that it was still good. “Do you want more fingers?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

Legolas shook his head. “I’ve taken four of mine before,” he confessed, “and there are toys. Gimli!” He broke into more laughter. “Don’t look so surprised. You…I thought of you so much while we traveled. When I started to – to show my arousal, Aragorn heard me. No, he didn’t help!” he said hastily, and Gimli realized that he himself had growled. “He told me how to make myself feel even better.” 

“I was the first to give you a stand?” The bottle that he had just uncorked leaked a stream of oil over Gimli’s fingers; mechanically, he spread it about to wet them and stood the flat-bottomed bottle upright on the covers. “Me?” 

Legolas nodded. “Yes. For another person, I mean. The first I thought of when I…yes.” 

Gimli kissed him fiercely once more. “Then lift up, my dearest friend. I would be proud to fuck you.” Laughter to echo Legolas’s own came from his throat unbidden. “If you wish.” 

“I would,” said Legolas, and touched Gimli’s slick hand. “Do it.” 

Gimli covered his cock with oil as best as could be done with his eyes trained on Legolas’s face, and groaned deeply when Legolas lifted up both legs with his hands and exposed his hole for him. “You’re certain?” 

Legolas nodded once, so sharply. “Yes. Now.” 

On his knees, Gimli trudged across the space between them and lay across Legolas to give him another kiss. Then he guided his cock forward, teeth deep in his lower lip to prevent the hiss that came out anyway when he slid slowly into Legolas, then lay fully inside him. 

The differing lengths of their bodies made kissing difficult, but Gimli tried valiantly anyway, and Legolas’s hair and his own beard engulfed him in softness that was almost a kiss in itself. He kissed Legolas’s neck and chest instead, and worried his nipples with his fingers, and all the while fucked in and out with their combined warmth burning between them. 

Legolas climaxed again before Gimli did once, and even had it not been for the warm, wet seed between them, he might have known from the way Legolas clutched his arse and dug in his fingers. Words in Elvish spilled from his mouth, and as his own mouth worked against Legolas’s neck, Gimli squeezed his eyes closed and lost himself in the burst of his pleasure. 

Their heavy breathing evened, and at the end, Gimli thought that Legolas might have fallen asleep until he spoke. “Oh, Gimli.” 

“Mm?” Gimli twined a lock of Legolas’s hair between two fingers. 

“I lost,” said Legolas, “but I find I don’t mind.” 

Gimli snorted and pulled back to see his face. Legolas had flushed with exertion all over, just as he suspected. “That’s three contests I’ve won,” he pointed out. “You’ve got to get a move on if you want to think so highly of yourself now.” 

“You didn’t win the snoring contest.” Legolas bent forward and kissed the top of Gimli’s head. “Yours were quieter.” 

“So much for Elvish honor, you liar,” said Gimli, but leaned into the kiss nonetheless. “Will you have that bath now, if it’s not gone cold? I tell you, I didn’t dirty it.” 

Legolas let out a hum. “I will,” he said after a moment. “And then – Gimli?” 

Gimli stroked Legolas’s shoulder. Up close, freckles dotted the skin. “Aye.” 

“Will you come with me?” 

The sun had undoubtedly moved much farther in the sky than he thought; pleasure would do that to a body. He was meant to meet with the King today for a conversation, likely about his future, but that could wait – if not, it could go hang. “Only if you don’t toss me in.” 

Legolas’s chortle warmed him the rest of the way there.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Mellon_ : friend (Sindarin)  
>  _M'imnu Mahal_ : Mahal's beard! (Khuzdul) 
> 
> You just know Nori is sitting in the vents, watching these two for blackmail material later. "Aowww! How's that gonna fit in there? ...aye, it fit."
> 
> I can be found at godihatethisfreakingcat on Tumblr, and love and cherish all feedback.


End file.
